


North's Child

by Inopportunist



Series: Father Frost [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Baby!Jack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-02
Updated: 2013-04-02
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:34:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inopportunist/pseuds/Inopportunist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He has always wished for a son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	North's Child

**Author's Note:**

> A response to this prompt at the kinkmeme: http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/2389.html?thread=3961941#cmt3961941
> 
> I've decided to post all of my kinkmeme stories here so they won't be anonymous forever.

Through the rush of his sand, he can hear the howls of a discontented infant. Hungry or tired or in pain, he doesn’t really know, but he assures himself that the babe will receive wonderful dreams tonight.

But the wailing goes on, deep into the night and into the early morning hours. He drifts closer to the small village below him, wondering why no one has comforted the child yet. There are no lights, no candles lit, only the dim glow of embers in hearths, dying in the cold winter air. He frowns but notices that the cries are coming from somewhere distant.

Has someone left a child to die in the forest?

It would not be the first, he’s seen it before. Deformed children, twins, illegitimate offspring; thought to be cursed or left because of shame. Hours have passed since the babe began its tirade, however, and – though it pains him to think it – the child would have passed in the deep cold of the night by now.

The Wind begins to rush, chilling the tiny village further, and he floats on a cloud of sand toward the crying. Over the trees he flies, the Wind at his back, encouraging him, assuring that his heading is correct. The trees gather thickly around a small, barely noticeable clearing and he drifts down at the turn of the Wind.

It is then that he notices the moonbeams shining directly into the clearing, filling it with soft, beautiful light. And in that light is a splotch of chilly blue, like dull mid-winter skies. There is ice as well, a small, frozen pond, painted with the most lovely frost patterns he’s ever seen. The wails seem to grow louder and he knows that they must come from the blue splotch.

Blankets, swaddling the palest child. Tiny, quivering lips the same blue as the cloth. A thick head of hair the color of moonbeams and snow.

So, it is no natural child.

He looks toward the moon questioningly. Is _he_ to take the babe from the ice?

 _Jack Frost_ , whispers the moonbeam.

Wonderful, but _is he_?

A feeling of affirmation fills him and he lands gently on the ice and lifts the child into his short, golden arms. The crying slows to jerking sobs and he feels the cold emanating from the babe.

 _Jack Frost_ , he wants to say, but he does not. Instead, a cloud of sand forms beneath his feet, lifting him into the air.

**(Page Break)**

A moonbeam shone down through the rotunda window, enchanting North’s workshop in a diamond glow. The yeti worked endlessly, carving wooden toys and sewing up soft animal shapes and painting faces onto dolls.

North’s boots stamped loudly against the floor as he contemplated the light over the carven, intricate ‘G’ in the stonework beneath his feet.

“Must have meaning, no?” He muttered, brow furrowed. “Manny, I am not patient man. You need to give news quickly, my friend.”

No answer came but the moonbeam refused to retreat.

Dejected, the Guardian retreated to his personal workshop. Perhaps a carving or two might ease his mind.

**(Page Break)**

The knock came shortly after the Guardian of Wonder had settled himself comfortably in his chair, surrounded by cookies and tools and the wayward elf.

He really did not want to get up.

The knocking came again, more frantically.

Sighing, North pushed away from the work table and stood to open the door. Just as he reached for the handle, a hairy arm shoved through the door, slamming the cool wood and glass into North.

“Greg! Must you always… Urgh!” He grunted, shaking his head as the yeti gasped belatedly, nearly shrieking apologies. “Always with the interruptions and the knocking,” North lamented, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Garbled speech came in response.

“A visitor! Why did you not say so, Greg? I will meet them in the living room!”

A few grunts resounded through the room.

“Which living room!? _The_ living room! What other living room we have?”

Greg gestured wildly upward and a bit to the left, babbling.

“That is not living room, is _family_ ro-”

A burst of sand flashed in front of his face and North looked down to find the Sandman glaring up at him, arms full.

“Oh! Sandy! I did not see you come in!” North said, stooping a bit to see his fellow more clearly. “What have you got, my friend?”

The shorter leaned forward and turned his arms to make visible the face of the slumbering child he held.

“A baby?” North blinked then held out broad, warm hands to accept the bundle from the other Guardian’s arms.

The Sandman gratefully settled little Jack Frost in the more capable arms of his fellow, shaking out his limbs after carrying the infant for so long. He watched the Guardian of Wonder peer into the blue blanket at the tiny, pale face before tugging the swaddling gently aside for a better look.

“A spirit!” he gasped in amazement, brushing one large finger over the boy’s soft white hair. The child whined in his sleep, scrunching his face up. North smiled widely, fondly, before looking back to the Guardian of Dreams. “Sandy-”

The moonbeams grew brighter, shifting to settle on the soft face of the infant.

 _Jack Frost_ , they whispered.

“Manny?”

There came no answer.

North looked back down to the bundle in his arms. “So, you must be Jack Frost, little one,” he sighed, smiling again, eyes twinkling. “I have always wished for son.”

The moonbeams flashed brightly once again before dissipating altogether.

**(Page Break)**

North stood facing the large fire place, unconsciously swaying to soothe the already-sleeping infant. The baby had yet to wake, but North could be patient, and Sandy had already gestured that the child had been up crying for most of the night.

The child was beautiful beyond words and the Guardian of Wonder could already imagine their future together. He would carve the most spectacular cradle for him, of dark-stained mahogany covered in intricate designs. The nursery would be painted the same blue as the baby’s soft blanket and filled with toys and games and storybooks. North would teach the boy every language he knew and how to wield swords as well as a whittling knife. The boy would learn the best way to paint a doll and how to put together a toy flintlock musket.

While he dreamed of the days to come, the child wriggled restlessly, finally awake, eyes huge at the twinkling of lights. North looked down at the movement, staring fondly at the little face and excited by the big blue eyes staring back.

“You will have the best life, my little one,” he cooed.

The babe reached up a miniature hand and North pressed a finger to it, delighted when the child latched on with his own tiny digits.


End file.
